A modern bicycle is the pinnacle of refinement of a concept dating back to the early 1800’s. Back then it had no pedals, gears, pneumatic tires or brakes. It was heavy and unwieldy and offered no advantage compared to travel on horseback or by carriage. How things have changed. In two hundred years, bicycles have gone from being a rich man’s toy to the most efficient means of transport ever devised. There are many stories illustrating the gradual improvement in bicycle design, but I want to narrow the focus and talk a little about the progress that rear hubs have made since the 1970’s; in particular, rear hubs designed for derailleur systems.

In 1869, the bicycle freewheel was invented, allowing the rider for the first time to rest his or her legs while the bicycle continued to roll forward. Fast forward to the early 1900’s and witness the the multiple freewheel, allowing the rider to maximize speed for the same effort. From the 1920’s to the present day we’ve seen a steady progression in the number of gears (or sprockets) available to riders, from two gears all the way to the current maximum of twelve sprockets. There’s a particular moment when hub design changed, facilitating this continuous march towards friendly complexity; I’ll explain when it happened and why.

Up until the late 1970’s bicycles employed multi speed freewheels, a device that combined the sprockets and a ratcheting mechanism in a single unit; this unit threaded onto a rear hub. All was well and good when we had four or even five geared freewheels as standard equipment; but, as the number of sprockets increased, hubs underwent a progression from 116 mm wide to 130mm wide, to accommodate the extra gears. The unsupported length of the rear axle, from the drive-side hub bearing to the frame drop out, became ever longer, allowing the axle to flex, bend and eventually break. Until Shimano introduced their “freehub” design in 1978, cyclists had been dealing with an ever increasing frequency of axle breakage. The Japanese company’s design made broken axles a rarity.

In a freehub, the ratcheting mechanism is incorporated into the hub body, allowing the drive side axle bearing to be located far closer to the end, minimizing the length of unsupported axle. The sprockets, liberated from the ratcheting mechanism, simply slide onto splines on the freehub body.

When freehubs were introduced in the late Seventies, six speeds were the default. It’s taken roughly 35 years for us to arrive at Sram’s 12-speed Eagle system. This progression would not have been possible without freehub designs pioneered by Shimano, Suntour and Maillard; with regard to bicycle design and its continuous refinement, we really do stand on the shoulders of giants.

Mountain bikes have benefitted even more than road bikes from a more durable rear hub design. Think of the stress that downhill competition places on ALL parts of the bike, but the wheels in particular. It’s a happy coincidence that off-road riding arrived as freehub design became the norm because I really don’t think the older hub/freewheel design could have sustained the demands of off-road riding.

Disc brakes for bicycles are a breakthrough that would have been impossible, if not for the durability and reliability afforded by the freehub design; stresses absorbed by the hub are phenomenal when it is part of the braking system. Without the rigidity provided by the freehub design, I reckon it would be close to impossible to eliminate disc brake rub.

I started this article thinking about progress in bicycle design and the benefits it offers to us, if we wish to adopt them. And, although some older bicycles cannot accept wider spaced hubs and/or disc brakes, I’m still thrilled by the progress we’ve made. I’m certain that we live in the true Golden Age of bicycle design. It does make me wonder, though; where will we be thirty years down the road?

For most people, the visual is a strong motivator: we’re attracted to images because they go straight to our emotional receptors. The saying, “A picture is worth a thousand words” is true, and the advertising world lives and dies on this truth. Look at the latest bicycle wheel set from company X, Y, or Z; pictured in the Alps, on the bike of a well known Pro rider; you simply KNOW you’ll be faster with these babies under you!

I take my hat off to these companies and their products; I wish them well, even. In my tiny corner of the cycling universe, however, I find that I deal with cycling enthusiasts who have journeyed through the advertising labyrinth and are looking for the straight story. They are thirsty for technical info; they are seeking evidence; they are looking for an eye witness, a guide who has trod the path. They are looking for a craftsman.

Is it all that important? After all, there are plenty of fine wheel building entities on the Net; check the boxes for hub, spoke and rim, give them your credit card and they’ll appear on your doorstep in a couple days. Let’s say you went for the following:

Hed Belgium Plus rims, 24 front, 28 rear.

Industry 9 road hubs

Sapim CX Ray spokes, radial lace front, 2x rear.

All in all, a nice wheel set. Maybe even an appropriate wheel set for you. Let’s see who else could have checked the same boxes on that day:

A 230 lb male commuter, 62yrs, from San Francisco, Ca

A 105 lb female road racer, 21yrs, from Orlando, Fla

A 165lb male triathlete, 47yrs, from Santa Barbara, Ca

A 120lb male, climbing specialist, 18yrs, from Gunnison, Co.

Did anybody end up with the right wheel set? Possibly. This is hypothetical, obviously, but without the benefit of a wheel builder’s advice, I’ll wager it happens every day.

Next time you need wheels, search out a professional wheel builder; there is no substitute for hands-on experience; no shortcut to the wisdom accumulated from hand-building thousands of wheels. With so many choices on the market for hubs, spokes and rims, an artisan who has sorted the wheat from the chaff is a resource for saving time, money and aggravation; and maybe, even your skin. Trust our skill and personal service. We care.

Whatever enthusiasts think of electric bikes, they are not going away. In Germany last year, 42% of all bicycles sold were electric assist machines. In the Netherlands the figure was 20%. I’m for anything that encourages people to get on two wheels, even if they are simply looking to flee the car. If pedal assist gets people to work, the market or the coffee shop on two wheels, so be it.

Out of all bikes on the road, electric bikes are the most in need of robust high quality equipment; especially wheels. They have to hold up machines weighing as much as 70 lbs. They have to cope with rider and motor transmitting the same power as an Olympian, all the time. If your wheels lack robustness, an electric motor will point it out fast.

One of my favorite hubs for use on an electric assist bike is the Nuvinci N380. It’s sufficiently strong for most production electric bikes; at 2400 grams, it’s not light - and doesn’t need to be. I have used one of these hubs on my regular commuter and didn’t feel that it was holding me and my lunch box back. After all, hubs sit at the center of the wheel and rotate slowly compared to the rim.

Talking of rims, I chose to build the featured wheels with Sun Rhynolite rims. I first got to use these rims in 1996 when I was managing and wrenching for the Outland VPP MTB team. Our downhill racers – Kathy Sessler, Jeremy Purdy and Lynn Allen - all rode the season on Rhynolites without a single problem (on V-brakes, no less). In fact, Jeremy won the Reebok Eliminator on those rims. The story “The 500 dollar brake cable” is retold on my blog; anyway, I digress. These rims are 27-28 mm wide, so they hang onto a tire such as a Schwalbe 700 x 38 pretty darn well. I built the front wheel with a Shimano Alfine dynamo hub; its 3.0 watt output is adequate to power a 2.4 watt headlight and a .6 watt taillight. Drag is a little more than that of a higher quality hub such as a Schmidt Son 28, but it costs about half the price. American-made Wheelsmith 14 gauge spokes with brass nipples and spoke washers round out the package.

Left to Right: Lyubov Zadorozhnaya, Beryl Burton, Anna Konkina standing on the World Road Race Podium. Burton, center, is wearing the rainbow jersey of world champion.

Inspiration.

In 1967, time trialist Mike McNamara set a new British Men’s record for the 12-Hour by riding an astonishing 276.52 miles in that time. However, there was one rider who beat him by close to a mile, riding 277.25 miles. That rider couldn’t take the Men’s title because her name was Beryl Burton.

Burton may be the greatest cyclist you’ve never known, a wrong that’s ripe for correction. She was one of the giants of the sport.

Burton was born in the northern city of Leeds, an industrial, working class town. She was introduced to cycling at the age of 15 by her future husband Charlie and was racing competitively by the age of 17. Charlie would remain in the background as her mechanic, helpmate, and companion during the whole of her career.

And what a career it was!

Her domestic victories included 72 British individual time trial titles, 12 National Road Race victories, and 12 national pursuit titles. The women’s title of Best British All-Rounder (a tally of a rider’s best times for 25, 50 and 100 miles distances) belonged to her for twenty five years; she won the first title aged 22 in 1959 and the last at age 47 in 1984.

Burton also bested all the men in the 1967 12-hour, an accomplishment never achieved before nor after. She was truly the best.

In the international arena, Beryl was World Road Race Champion in 1960 and 1967 and World 3,000 Meter Individual Pursuit Champion in 1959, 1960, 1962, 1963, and 1966.

One particular anecdote stands out to display both her strength and humility. In the ’67 12-hour, when she overhauled McNamara, the fasted man, she offered him a piece of candy because he looked to be suffering. He took the candy.

You might assume that a career such as Burton’s would have assured her place in British sporting history, but relatively few people outside of British Cycling understood what a national treasure she was.

However, what a different story it was on the Continent! Beryl was revered in Europe.

She had the rare distinction of being invited to compete in the all-male Grand Prix des Nations in 1967, the equivalent of the world time trial championships at the time.

The esteem in which she was held was such that a French sports writer penned the words “If Beryl Burton had been French, Joan of Arc would have had to take second place.”

In an era where champions live like monks in order to fulfill their cycling ambitions, Burton’s life stood out for its ordinariness. She worked during the week on a rhubarb farm and her role as wife and mother took equal precedence to cycling. Those who knew her said her ability to balance both worlds came down to highly efficient time management.

At the time, cycling’s infrastructure didn’t have much place for her. Had she been born 40 years later, she would have benefited from female cycling participation in the Olympics, not added until 1984. Her legend would have only been bigger.

The British enjoy their history.

Over the last 25 years, the exploits of Boardman, Obree, Wiggins and Froome have rekindled the general public’s passion for cycling, not only reveling in the present but also casting a backwards glance to the infancy of British participation in international cycling.

Burton passed in 1996, never to receive the glory and admiration she deserved. The English have since woken up to the fact that greatness in the form of a modest, hardworking woman moved among them all those years ago. Beryl Burton, the greatest female cyclist of all time, is, finally, getting her place at the table.